


A Thief With A Good Heart

by VYCanisMajoris



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Based on a Tumblr Post, M/M, Pre-Slash, Swearing, That i thought was pretty cute, Thief Tony, i always have swearing for some reason, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 21:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10369818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VYCanisMajoris/pseuds/VYCanisMajoris
Summary: “You broke into my apartment,” Steve says dumbly, but in his defense, he just woke up to his apartment being robbed, with the robber wakinghimup on purpose.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. They belong to Marvel Entertainment. Any writing is completely fan-made and I make no profit from this writing.
> 
> This is based on the Tumblr post about a guy being woken up by a burglar. I thought it was pretty sweet, so here we are! I hope you like it!

Steve Rogers stares up at the man kneeling beside him. What the actual hell?

He’d gotten home later than he wanted, and, seeing that he has a class tomorrow at six in the morning, immediately went to bed. Well, “bed” is too nice of a term. It’s more of a sleeping bag, but he’s planning on getting a mattress, once he has the money, but with college and a crappy part time job, he doesn’t have the cash to make it happen. 

His mother doesn’t know about his current situation, thank goodness. Steve doesn’t like how he’s living, but under no circumstances does he want his mom breaking the bank. It’s fine if he has to sleep on the ground for a while, as long as she doesn’t have to keep worrying about money. 

Steve expected that he’d wake up tomorrow at five, eat something, and run to his class, as he always does. He _hadn’t_ expected being woken up by a man all in black (Johnny Cash much?), or finding an expression of shock on what he is now realizing is the _robber’s_ face. 

“Hey,” the robber waves, and Steve pointedly doesn’t let himself get distracted by his doe eyes, curly hair, and pouting lips. 

“You broke into my apartment,” Steve says dumbly, but in his defense, he just woke up to his apartment being robbed, with the robber waking _him_ up on purpose. 

“True,” he nods, “But quick question, is this…” he gestures towards the empty apartment, “Are you living like this?”

Steve blinks, and nods slowly, “Yes, now, get out.”

“Kay,” the man nods. He holds out a hand, “Tony.”

Steve stares at it. The robber, Tony, retracts his hand and sits back on his heels. “So, what’s the dealio with this emptiness?”

“You broke into my apartment.”

“We already covered that.”

“And now, you’re asking me about my apartment.”

“Well, I _am_ a thief, but there’s nothing for me to steal. What’s up with that?”

“I’m calling 911.”

“With what phone?”

_Shit._ He called Steve’s bluff, which sucked, he admits, but he thought self-preservation instincts would kick in for the man at the threat. Steve pushes himself up to his elbows, “If you don’t leave now-”

“College student? Working a couple of jobs and don’t have enough cash for college, food, this shitty apartment, clothing, medicine,” Tony marks down the items on his fingers, “And, I don’t know, condoms, though you probably aren’t sleeping with anyone because who’d want to have sex on a sleeping bag? Though,” he looks Steve up and down, “You are _very_ attractive.”

“Get. Out.” Steve forces out of a clenched jaw, forcing down a blush that _desperately_ wants to escape. 

“Sure,” Tony nods, “Be back in like,” he wobbles his hand, “Twenty minutes, half an hour, somewhere round that.”

Tony pushes himself to his feet and strolls from Steve’s apartment. He shuts the door behind himself, very courteous for a thief, and Steve pushes himself to his feet. He runs throughout his apartment to double check that all the windows are shut and locked, and his mind races. What the hell? Who breaks into an apartment, and, when they find nothing, wake up the owner to ask why? Was he insane?

Steve runs a hand through his hair; he’ll need to ask Tasha how she made herself such a light sleeper. He doesn’t want this to happen again, though he doubts that any future robbers will wake him up to complain about his lack of furniture for them to steal. 

Wait… that guy, Tony, said he’d be back in twenty minutes. Was he serious? Steve moves to the door, checks the lock, and… damn. The lock, which was originally pretty nice, is now broken. That’s just… he rubs the space between his brows; this is going to take a good amount out of his next paycheck. 

A knock on the door pulls him from his worries, and Steve stares at the door. More knocking, and Steve sighs, opens the door, and says, “You broke the lock.”

“I did?” Tony asks, a look of actual _guilt_ on his face, pushing past Steve with a large box in hand, “Dang. I’ll fix that for you, no charge. Get the other stuff out there, will you?”

Steve frowns and looks into the hall. His eyes widen. Several chairs, a table, pots and pans, and a microwave are placed haphazardly throughout the hall, along with several boxes stacked neatly on the ground. He looks back at Tony, who now sits cross-legged on the ground, sorting through the box he carried in. 

“What is this?” Steve asks slowly. 

“I don’t know,” Tony holds up a spork, “Who decided on spork? I feel like ‘forpoon’ would’ve been a better choice, since it’s a lot more fun to say.”

“Not, not that,” Steve stares at the back of his head, “The appliances, the furniture, the… _everything_.”

“Oh!” Tony stands up, and walks over to Steve, twirling the spork through his fingers. “I got you a table, chairs, a futon is coming later, and some other stuff I though was useful.”

“Why?”

“Seriously?” Tony gestures around Steve’s apartment, “This place is empty. You have literally nothing other than the clothes on your back. Plus, I had this stuff laying around, so…”

“Wait,” Steve holds up a hand, taking in a deep breath, “Did you steal this stuff?”

“What?” Tony flutters his eyelashes, the epitome of innocence, “Me? Steal? _Me?_ Where’s the trust? Relationships are built on trust, you know. They need strong foundations to properly grow, and you aren’t assisting in making this foundation earthquake proof.”

“I met you half an hour ago, when you woke me up after finding nothing in my apartment for you to steal.”

“So,” Tony smiles widely, forcing Steve to push down another blush, “I _didn’t_ steal from you, which means that, following this strain of activity, I have never stolen in my entire life.”

Steve stares at him, mouth fully open. “That makes absolutely _no_ sense. You’re insane. You are _insane._ Jesus…”

“My name is Tony.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” Tony hooks his arm through Steve’s elbow with a wink, “Now, come-on Hotstuff; let’s go steal you that futon.”


End file.
